


If I Only Could

by Odesta_irom



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Death, Gen, Killing, Loneliness, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odesta_irom/pseuds/Odesta_irom
Summary: "If only he had told her what to do after, or what it will be like to take a life." Short drabbles of six tributes in a moment they are completely alone.
Kudos: 8





	If I Only Could

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone has an inner voice, a conscience of sorts, that can either be the voice of a loved one, a deity or simply your own mind conjuring a being when there is no one left to guide you.
> 
> Inspired prompts from Bjork's Scatterheart are used for our six tributes. (*lyrics removed*)

_Rue_

"We should arrive by morning. Get some sleep."

The door closes, shutting the child into complete isolation. This will be her first night alone in a bed that could easily fit her five siblings, parents and even three more of the neighbor's children. The only sounds that replace the goodnight bustle are from the fine, crystal decor chattering their own lullaby on the shelves and dressers as the train rocks through the dusty plains.

The cabin is set at a comfortable 72 degrees, yet she feels cold lying in the middle of the enormous bed. After bundling up the pillows and blankets around her, she lies down at the edge of the bed with only an inch to spare. She closes her eyes and pretends the crystal song is the crickets chirping in the wheat fields, and her soft, silk nightgown is one of her father's threadbare work shirts.

_Finnick_

"Penelope would be envious of me. She waited twenty years for Odysseus to return. I know you'll be back, very, very soon."

He sits at the edge of a stream, letting his fingers feel the bite of the cold, clear water rush past. It has been two days since the first cannon fired and he has yet to be the flint to the fuse. He is slightly disappointed this game of hide-and-seek has been too easy as he watches how the river rocks contort and ripple under the current. Grey is the color he is fixated on, the same grey as his mentor's hair. He wonders if his mother's hair would have been this color by now.

His mentor could never replace his mother, but in his green eyes, he sees a maternal pride in hers. The touch of her fingers on his cheek before his departure was as smooth as the river rocks and just as strong.

He lifts his face to the sky and smiles. A shimmer of gold, haloed by silver that descends from the clouds, tells him she is smiling too.

_Katniss_

"Stay alive."

He also said to run away from the Cornucopia, away from the bloodbath. How could she when that bow is rightfully hers? Although she manages a small satchel with a sparse inventory, she wishes she had listened to his instructions. The bull-headed rush into the melee is a foolish lesson learned.

If only he had told her what to do after, or what it will be like to take a life.

_Annie_

"Just hold you breath and relax. You'll only be under the wave for a few seconds."

The flood crashes over her in an instant, rolling her over and over through the trees. The rip curl is much more violent than any wave she had encountered. Desperately, her hands claw through the water, reaching for the surface. Unsure if the thrashing will stop, her lungs start to burn and panic sets in. At the beach, she knows the soft sand is just another swell and stroke away. But here in the arena, the water is murky, the depth unknown and the distance to the shore is rapidly growing.

A memory comes rushing back, faster than the air to her lungs. It is of a childish game of who can hold their breath the longest. She remembers the awe on the faces of the boys when she is the last to surface. Even the one with the green eyes is impressed.

_Johanna_

"You'd better be quiet this time, I fuckin' mean it. Don't make me leave you out here."

He shoves a handkerchief in her mouth for something to bite down on and she keeps her eyes on the moon, the same moon she sees five years later, through bruised eyelids when she hears the trumpets sound. Her plan to let the other tributes strike her down and leave her, a _pathetic, worthless piece of shit to die in mutt infested woods_ , is worth every bruise and cracked rib. She surprises them just as she did her father, with an axe buried in their chests. _  
_

_Haymitch_

"Darling, she scored an 11. That's the best any of your tributes have ever received."

He paces the room alone while holding a glass of melted ice cubes that still have a hint of liquor, his red eyes never leaving the screen. Since the last twenty-three years have made him nothing more than a pallbearer, he forgot it was at all possible that one of his tributes could ever be victorious. Today, today his tribute has a sure shot at the remaining contender, but he knows all too well how quickly a sure thing can slip away.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The second to last segment, Johanna's, is based off of my one shot, "What the Moon Saw."
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear which one was your favorite.


End file.
